


All That I Want

by sithlady



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Clarissa Fairchild - Freeform, Clary Herondale - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Jace HERONDALE - Freeform, Jace Lightwood - Freeform, Smut, So many names, They love each other so much, clace, clary x jace - Freeform, crying forever over it, jace wayland - Freeform, married, ~21
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-18 04:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10609368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sithlady/pseuds/sithlady
Summary: It's their third wedding anniversary and Clary and Jace settle a fight in the most amusing way possible.Just another night in the Herondales' lives told in two parts. Fluff and smut. Lots of both.





	1. ante

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based off a favorite song of mine- [All That I want](https://youtu.be/5FsGor-NBak) by the Weepies. Just a happy little ditty.

“You're being irrational, Jace,” Clary spat, angrily gathering the colorful array of acrylic tubes, throwing them one at a time into the wooden box as if it would somehow ease her tension. Clary wished it were somehow little tubes of her husband she could throw against the unforgiving walls of the box, knowing fully well it would hardly do any good. The man was all muscle and would probably do more harm to the box than it could do to him, though she couldn't suppress the latent desire. 

“ _I’m_ being irrational? Clary, you're throwing paints around like you wish they were me.”

Clary’s icy gaze snapped immediately to Jace, her black satin robe sliding off one shoulder. She pushed it back up quickly, never breaking the contact of Jace’s eyes. “That's actually _exactly_ what I was wishing for.”

Jace closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he did when he needed to find the right words before the moment had past. “Clary,” he began, a marked resignation in his tone. “I love you exactly as you are but the whole reason you have a studio is so your art stuff can go in it.”

“Exactly as I am?” Clary raged, turning towards Jace in a way that had him considering stepping backward. Her wet, clean hair fell around her shoulders in waves that reminded Jace of Medusa at the moment. He had met her once and it wasn't pretty. “It drives you insane that I’m not as pristine and perfect as you are. If Magnus found a spell that would make me as orderly as the military standard of clean you're used to, you'd use it in a second. Don't tell me you love me exactly as I am when you wish desperately you could change my habits.”

“Am I not usually understanding? I don't care if the bed isn't made exactly as I do it or whether you leave your toothbrush on the counter. But why do these canvases and brushes and paints and the goddamn easel always find their way back into the room? I know I'm magnetic, but I don't think such things are attracted to me.”

“Don't be funny. This isn't funny.” Clary’s back was turned to Jace as she folded in the legs of her espresso-colored easel, turning stiffly to walk out of the room with a pale arm around the thing. Jace heard her walk down the hallway, all but stomping, before slamming the door to the studio. Sighing, Jace removed his weapons belt, laying it on the dresser before shedding his gear. 

Of all days, he had to nag at her on this one. He always knew he had a brilliant knack for picking the worst of times to bring up sensitive topics; his self-sabotaging nature had that much on him. Padding to the bathroom, Jace threw his filthy clothes into the “darks” side of the clothing hamper before turning on the shower. Not ironically, the “lights” section was seldom used. Not surprisingly, Clary’s gear littered the bathroom floor, directly in front of the hamper, a statement of spite. Jace showered slowly, savoring the silence. 

-

Clary blinked back angry tears as she organized her paint stores. She really only organized when she was mad, a fact that only fueled her current contempt. When she heard the shower turn on, she used the opportunity to slip into their room, grabbing an outfit from the closet. Crossing to the dresser, Clary pulled out a lacy black lingerie set. Just in case. As she walked back out of the room, the redhead paused, glancing back into the now-spotless space. She quickly untied the sash of her robe, throwing it onto the floor; a smug smile played at the corners of her mouth. 

Back in her studio, Clary slipped into her simple satin slip dress which showed just the topmost traces of her lace bra beneath it. At least, it would be visible at the right angles, if someone significantly taller than her was looking down the dress. She might be angry, but she expected the night to end a little more interestingly. 

The shower beyond the wall turned off and Clary’s heart sped up involuntarily. She couldn't say exactly what she was feeling but after three years of marriage, Clary quite liked the rapport she and her husband maintained. Despite marrying young, to her mother’s dismay, Clary had never regretted it. She loved Jace desperately, powerfully, in a way that made her cry sometimes at his touch because she knew she was _so lucky_. Even when they fought, she yearned for him in every deep recess of her soul. 

Clary headed back into their bathroom, pointedly ignoring Jace as she unzipped her makeup bag. She wasn't a huge makeup wearer, not like Izzy at least, but she tried to put in a modicum of effort most days. Jace was emerging from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. Clary caught the briefest sight of his muscled chest and quickly glanced away, hoping she looked unaffected. Though, if she weren't mistaken, Jace’s eyes raked her body just as hungrily; his lingering glance made her body burn. 

Somehow, Jace managed to extricate himself from the bathroom. Clary heard the squeak of the closet door knob as he undoubtedly retrieved his clothes. She ignored him, returning her attention to her reflection. 

A minute or so later, Clary heard Jace sigh. In a second, he was within the bathroom door frame with a burst of cool air. She chanced a glance in the mirror and saw Jace standing there, his head cocked to the side. He was wearing a pair of black jeans, his chest still bare. In his hand was her robe. Clary bit back a smile and lifted an eyebrow. 

It only took a step before Jace was behind her, pushing her slightly into the counter. Without heels, Clary came up to husband’s shoulders and the way he towered over her menacingly made Clary shudder. Jace brushed the hair off her shoulder and trailed his finger up Clary’s neck, raising goosebumps over her body. Clary shut her eyes. “Turn around.”

Clary did as told, and Jace lifted her up onto the counter, the height difference closing some of the space between them. Jace bent down to kiss gently along Clary's jaw but when she tried to catch his lips, he pulled away. “What are you really angry about?”

Clary sighed, narrowing her eyes. “Must we talk about this now?” 

Jace seemed to consider his options, meeting Clary’s eye and then glancing away. “We must,” he said finally. “You know we can't just fuck and make up and ignore talking.” 

“But I want to,” Clary protested, knowing fully well how she sounded. She couldn't find it in her to care. Jace took her hand, pulling her down from the counter and into their room. He sat down on the bed, looking sternly at her. 

“Okay,” Clary said. “Fine. Hang on.”

Jace watched Clary walk out of the room, trying not to stare at her ass. He heard the studio door open and a minute later, Clary was emerging, a canvas in hand. “Happy anniversary.”

She looked almost shy as she handed it to him, the back side up. On the back was written “L’amor che move il sole e l’atre stelle.” _The love that moves the sun and the other stars._ Jace looked up at Clary who was nervously biting her lip, nodding at him to turn it over. 

It was a painting of them, asleep, tangled in the sheets and each other’s limbs. Clary’s wedded union rune was visible on her hand against Jace’s jaw, all other runes fainter but still there. While their bed remained intact, where the room should be was the swirling maelstrom of a portal, depicted as the cosmos. Painted in all blues and cool tones, their love might as well have bled from the scene. It was… “beautiful,” Jace said, quietly. “This-?”

“It's what I've been working on, while you sleep.” Clary said quietly, gesturing to where her mess had been earlier. “I tried to work from memory or a picture on my phone but you are so hard to capture. That's why my stuff has been in here. I'm sorry. I know you hate my messes. I just-”

“Clary,” Jace said, reaching a hand to her. She took it, letting him pull her to him. He set the painting on the bed as he scooted back, laying down, pulling Clary into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I had no idea. I should have asked.”

“I wouldn't have told you,” Clary said, smiling slightly. “You like it?”

Instead of answering, Jace kissed her. It was a slow kiss, an apology and a promise. When he pulled away, his eyes were pleading. “I don't mean to be so hard on you. I never had a choice growing up; if I made any sort of mess, my father- _Valentine_ ,” he corrected. Then he stopped, closing his eyes. He didn't have to continued that. 

“I know,” Clary said gently, touching his cheek. “And I grew up in chaos, paint and charcoal and canvases spread out over the place like the apartment itself was a work of art. I don't blame you for your upbringing. Ours were just very…”

“Different,” Jace concluded, nodding. “I try to be less concerned about messes. Certainly our kids won't be as fastidious as I am. Kids are messy, I know that much.” 

Clary smiled despite herself. “They will love you regardless of your habits; after all, they'll be half of me and I love you enough for the entire world.” 

Jace’s hand, which rested on Clary’s hip, moved along her body. When it reached her ribs, he pulled her flush against him, dipping his head to the curve where shoulder met neck. Jace inhaled her and groaned. “I would keep you like this all night,” he said. “But we have reservations and as much as I want to devour you, I'll need sustenance to do so all night.”

The vibrations of his voice against Clary’s neck sent a shiver up her spine and her hips ground against Jace’s, the barest hint of a moan escaping her lips. Jace laughed smugly against Clary’s neck and her back arched reflexively. “You're doing that on purpose now,” she gasped as his lips brushed against her ear. 

“Maybe,” he said, nipping at her earlobe. 

Clary’s hand grabbed the back of Jace’s head as though daring him to stop. To her relief, he didn't. Kissing across the curve of her jaw, Clary’s breath came out in gasps. Jace thought of what Sebastian had said, years before, about the way Clary gasped as though in surprise. It had infuriated him for years but now he only thought of it with smug appreciation. She _did_ gasp like that and Jace was the only one who got to hear it. It was delicious. 

Jace rolled Clary onto her back, climbing between her legs. Grabbing his neck, Clary pulled him down to her, kissing him fiercely. Jace pulled away, leaving Clary panting. “What about the reservation?” she asked.

Jace raised an eyebrow at her, grinning devilishly. “You can't just moan and expect me to push you away. How about one for the road?” 

Clary nodded, her eyebrows arched together with need. As she licked her lips, Jace kissed down her body, pulling her dress up to access as much skin as he could find. Clary watched with lidded eyes as Jace found the top of her panties, glancing up towards her with a wicked smile. “You'll have to be quick,” he said. 

“I think that responsibility lies on your shoulders,” Clary whispered as Jace slid the black lace over her hips. 

“On my tongue, rather,” he said, grabbing Clary’s thighs and pulling her to the edge of the bed. Clary's moan came out in a sharp tone as she lifted herself onto her elbows, watching Jace’s lips connect with her core. Most days he teased her for an eternity, making sex a deviant game to be mastered and won. Tonight, however, he wasted no time. Clary’s head fell back as Jace’s lips played with her clit just once before his tongue ran up the length of her, parting her folds. Jace groaned at her taste and Clary’s breath hitched, her hips raising up to meet his mouth. 

Jace returned to her sensitive nub, licking in circular motions as Clary whined above him. “Please- more,” she begged. Jace had two fingers inside her in a heartbeat, filling her up suddenly as she preferred. Clary fell back against the bed, arching her back absentmindedly. The only thing in the world that existed was Jace, the sun of which she orbited.

Jace was sucking at her clit furiously, his fingers pressing into her slowly. He pulled his mouth away to stare up at her writhing body, increasing the pace and ferocity of his fingers, fucking her ruthlessly with them. Clary was unhinged, moaning desperately and loudly. Jace was glad for the silence rune which was drawn consistently above their bed. Once she got going, Clary had no regard for their privacy and Jace liked it that way. 

Clary looked down at Jace through slitted eyes and when he caught her gaze, he grinned. Reaching down, Clary grabbed at his golden hair, pleading with him to keep going. Jace would not; instead, he changed the angle of his fingers, pushing them upwards into the place that made Clary forget her own name. 

“Let me hear you beg,” Jace growled, slowing his fingers but maintaining the deep, steady pressure against the most sensitive part of her. 

“Please, Jace, I need more,” she moaned. He was going agonizingly slowly inside of her but the fire was only raging harder in her veins. 

“You'll need to be more specific, Clarissa.”

At the sound of her full name, Jace’s fingers stopped thrusting and instead pushed into her deeply, curving up to brush that spot again. Clary's head fell back onto the duvet as her eyes rolled back in her head. She was grinding her hips onto him, desperate for friction. 

“Look at me,” Jace growled again. Clary thought there was no way she could speak with the intensity of the pleasure inside of her. As though he read her mind, he pulled his fingers out of her. 

Clary’s head whipped up, her eyes a healthy mix of furious and pleading. “No, please! Please, I- I need you. On my clit- _please_.”

Jace grinned. She hadn't been specific enough. His slick fingers touched her there, rubbing gentle circles around the nub. 

“No,” Clary groaned. “Lips. Tongue. Please, babe.”

Jace obliged, licking her hood slowly before attaching his lips to her, sucking and licking in the way only years of practice could yield. His fingers rubbed against her folds, teasing her with just the barest press of his fingertips inside. 

“More,” Clary gasped. “Please, make me cum,” she begged. 

Again, Jace plunged his fingers into her fiercely. Clary’s response was immediate: a loud, breathy _fuck!_ that broke off into unabashed moans permeating the silence of the room. If Clary hadn't known already, she would have now learned that cursing broke every thread of restraint in her husband. His fingers angled up again, pressing against her sensitive walls as though it were a promise. His tongue moved up and down over her clit, the movements that always did her in. 

Clary's hand clutched at Jace’s hair, pressing him into her as though she'd hurt him if he tried to deny her now. While Jace loved to edge her on for hours, making her furious and desperate, he had no intentions of doing so tonight. Not when it was their anniversary and they had reservations at a fancy restaurant and he could sit across from her, still smelling her on his hands. 

Though Clary was undeniably loud in bed, her orgasms seemed to steal her voice. Every time she came, it was nearly silent save for her intense gasping and hitching breath. Tonight was no different, and as she began to shake, Jace dug the nails of his free hand into her hips. Clary was gone, lost in a sea of flashing lights and unimaginable bliss. Her walls contracted around Jace’s fingers which ceased their movement and, instead, pressed against her g-spot as she trembled beneath him. When her body stilled – save for the shudders that wracked her body randomly – Jace kissed just inside her thigh, grinning as she writhed away from his touch, too stimulated to be touched anymore. 

Jace climbed back up to Clary, pulling her into his arms. “You're delicious,” he muttered into her ear, earning another fierce shudder through her body. “Want a taste?”

Clary groaned, turning her closed-eyed face to him, nodding. He kissed her hard and Clary wasted no time slipping her tongue into his mouth, tasting herself on him. Clary moaned into Jace’s mouth and slipped her hand down between their bodies, stroking the bulge in his pants. 

“Not now, Clare,” he whispered. 

“But-”

“Later,” he said, moving his hips away from her wandering hand. “That was just my apology.”

“What about my apology for being a pain in the ass?” she whined. 

“If you want, I can give you a pain in the ass. That would level the playing field, I think.”

Clary glared at him. “No. Once was enough.”

“It was twice,” Jace reminded her, grinning. 

“Then you got extra lucky, didn't you?” Clary said, rolling her eyes. 

Jace’s hands cupped Clary’s face, pulling her gaze up to his. “I am lucky every day you so much as look at me, Clary. The fact that you let me love you and love me back is incomprehensible. I don't deserve you but I’m lucky as hell that you let me love you anyway. Any things you let me do to you are purely bonuses, even if we only do them three times.”

Clary grinned earnestly at him. “ _Two_ times,” she corrected. 

Jace returned her smile, though his was etched with the wicked gleam he so often employed. “If you say so,” he said, shrugging a shoulder.

Clary kissed Jace slowly, meaningfully, as though returning his previous sentiment. “You do deserve me, Jace Harondale. You are a good man. You are _good_ ,” she swore. Jace’s deepest insecurity was his belief that he was rotten at heart, that nature wasn't strong enough to oppose the nurture he was brought up with. 

“And good at what I do?” Jace questioned, smirking at Clary. 

_There he goes again, covering his insecurities with humor,_ Clary thought. She didn't care in that moment though, her body still weak and trembling from his ministrations. “Incredible,” she said honestly. “Really, it's unnerving how good you are. I wish you'd let me return the favor, though…”

At that, Jace sat up, smiling. He got to his feet and pulled Clary to him, holding her close. Clary melted into him, her hands admiring the hardness of his chest. His heart beat steadily inside his chest and Clary was grateful, _so_ grateful that she had watched him die twice and yet he stood here in front of her, the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. In bare feet, Jace was at least a head taller than Clary and so when she pulled away from him, they had to meet in the middle to kiss, Clary on her tiptoes and Jace bent down. 

“I love you,” Clary whispered. “So much that I don't know how my heart still manages to beat.”

“And I love you,” Jace agreed, bending to kiss the tip of her nose. “Thank you for marrying me… and letting me do naughty things to you.”

Clary shook her head, trying to hide her smile. “You're ridiculous, but also welcome to do said naughty things frequently. As frequently as possibly, really. I mean, we can skip dinner even?” 

Jace was just grinning at her, backing away towards the closet. “Keep it in your pants, Fray,” he said accusingly, the smile never leaving his face.

“It’s Mrs. Herondale to you, thank you very much.”

“I just wanted to hear you say it,” he admitted over his shoulder, heading into the closet. 

“Hey, Jace?” Clary's tone was different and Jace popped out of the closet again, pulling a shirt over his shoulders. At his questioning glance, she continued. “I'm really, exceptionally happy. Before we met and I learned of the shadow world, I never knew this much happiness was even possible, let alone attainable. I'm happy that i'm a Shadowhunter, and that I have you, and Isabelle and Alec and Magnus. I know I was often reluctant at first and hated the world I’d stumbled into but I'm unbearably happy that I saw you in Pandemonium that night. I love you terribly, irreparably and I just thought you should know that.”

Jace walked over to Clary, letting her button up the front of his shirt as he kissed her forehead. After fastening the top button, she reached up to cup his face. “Me too,” Jace said. “I love you madly, Clarissa Herondale. Always. It's a promise. Now let's go and eat before I have to rip your dress off.” 

“You say that like it's a bad thing!” Clary accused. 

“Bad for the dress, maybe,” Jace said with a quirk of his brow, sitting down on the bed to pull on his shoes. 

Clary flushed and avoided Jace’s eye as she disappeared into the closet for some boots. 

“By the Angel, Clary. Are you _blushing?_ ” Jace, now fully dressed, jumped up to follow her into the walk-in closet. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms in amusement, effectively blocking her in. “God, that's hot.”

Clary turned around and bent slightly to put her heeled black boots on. She then sauntered over to Jace, feeling bolder with the added height. The rosy glow of her cheeks made her eyes look greener and Jace reached out to touch an auburn curl. “I'm the luckiest man in the world,” Jace said, then turned around, pulling her towards the front door. They grabbed their weapon belts off the dresser, wrapping them around their waists and making sure they were covered with glamours. Jace helped Clary into her winter coat and then pulled his own on. 

“Let's get out of here, Mr. Herondale,” Clary said, kissing him on the cheek.


	2. ...post

“If you could go back in time and tell yourself something before we left for the demon realm during the Dark War, what would you say?”

Jace appeared to consider the question seriously before a smile spread over his lips. When Clary’s eyes rose to met his, she saw the gleam in his eyes, somewhere between pupil and iris. 

“I’d congratulate myself for thinking to bring condoms,” Jace spoke lowly across the table, grinning at the blush that spread over his wife’s pale face. 

“Of all the tips you could give, any help you could offer, you'd instead congratulate yourself on something you brought anyway?” Clary's voice was but a whisper despite the privacy of their table at the fancy, modern restaurant they came to on special occasions. 

“On that line of thought, everything worked out anyway; what piece of advice could I have bestowed that would have made things transpire any better? Besides, I’d have probably been less of an ass if I knew we'd… be doing that.” 

Clary couldn't be sure but she could almost swear a hint of a blush was tingeing the color of Jace’s cheeks, though she chalked it up to the wine. He was on his third glass, after all; Clary was on her second. She was infringing on Drunk Territory the way only a wisp of a woman could off only two glasses of wine. At last, Clary shrugged: Jace had a point. She remembered the edge with which their journey plagued him and, consequently, their whole small army of five. Jace smiled in response, then gazed off into space as he appeared to think of a question for Clary. 

This was their game when they found themselves immersed in intentional alone time, a game they'd never tired of over the years. It had begun shortly after the war, when the shadows of guilt were assuaged from their lives and a small semblance of peace became their normal. They were finally free to breathe and love each other and enjoy calm moments without threat of either death or heartache. So the game carried them through their relationship, allowing Clary and Jace to know each other as intimately as they knew themselves. Possibly better, even. 

“Do you regret not taking over the Institute?” Jace asked, cautiously. He knew of Clary’s thoughts on the matter: they were too young, she was too inexperienced, she wasn't ready for the responsibility. Yet, Jace realized in this moment that, while he knew of her reasonings, he wasn't sure how she felt about it now. 

“Yes and no,” Clary responded, a look of plaintive wonder crossing her face. “If we had the offer today, I’d take it in a heartbeat. But I couldn't have run the Institute at seventeen, even with your help. I mean, we were children. We basically still are, relatively. At least we have a few years to enjoy ourselves without such responsibility on our shoulders. Still, I find myself regretting it, especially when Maryse starts _handling_ things…”

“She does have a way of doing so quite severely,” Jace agreed. He sat back in his seat, nudging Clary’s foot from his side of the table. 

“Are you playing footsies with me?” Clary asked dubiously, a giggle breaching the cool composure she been trying to keep in check. 

“You and your mundane phrases,” Jace said, taking a bite of his steak and grinning at Clary whose red curls matched the drunk flush in her cheeks as it spilled over her shoulders. She only smiled at him, reaching for her glass of merlot. 

“Why don't we drink more often?” Clary asked, wondering aloud. “To clarify, that is my question.”

“That is hardly a question,” Jace accused playfully, pointing his fork at Clary. “But, for an answer, you're a lightweight and we don't usually get the opportunity, what with the whole killing-demons-by-night thing. Though, for the sake of full disclosure, I’d probably be a lightweight too if I were the size of a-”

“Choose your next words carefully, Herondale…” Clary said, narrowing her eyes at her husband. 

“…rune,” Jace concluded, winking at Clary. “A very powerful, effective rune; perhaps one made by this brilliant, tiny lady I get to take to bed tonight.”

Clary’s cheeks reddened as she bit her lip, looking down at her plate briefly. She speared a piece of parmesan crusted asparagus and when she looked up, she was grinning. “You're assuming this brilliant, normally-sized lady wants to go to bed with you.”

“Tiny,” Jace corrected pedantically. “She can't resist me, though if that's her choice, I’ll only mope slightly.” 

“I think she'd be more willing if you admitted her height and stature is perfectly reasonable and average,” Clary retorted, the gleam in her eye giving more away than she'd like; it was no secret that their banter always quickened her pace in the most enjoyable way. “Also, there's a bottle of wine at home that might convince her.”

“Give a girl a drink and she'll want ten more. And then when she has ten more, she will do naughty, naughty things with you.”

Clary’s eyes brightened as she smiled. “You read mundane books as a kid!? If You Give a Mouse a Cookie?” 

“I admit to nothing,” Jace said casually, sitting back in his chair to smile at his wife. “Though, if you must know, my father - _Valentine_ ,” he corrected, furrowing his brow with a wince, “read me a few mundane children’s books when he was in a good mood.” 

“It's strange,” said Clary, biting her lip as she looked out across the restaurant absently, “that my father raised you. I wonder how different things would have been if my mother stayed. Who would we both be then, if you had never known him but I grew up under his thumb?”

Jace straightened up in his chair, looking mildly uncomfortable. They spoke of Valentine often enough in passing, of his influence, of the things they'd endured in his attempt to rise to power, of the way life had been for Jace, even. It was usually a topic of hushed tones and soul-bearing and Clary regretted saying anything when she saw the cool air surround Jace. 

“I’m sorry. Forget I said that.” Clary reached across the table and brushed her thumb over Jace’s knuckles. “The alcohol is getting to me.”

Jace shook his head and gave Clary a small smile as he collected his thoughts. He swallowed. “I'm glad it didn't happen that way,” he said at last. “I’m glad it all happened exactly as it did; I'm glad that I am me and you are you and somehow, we've ended up here because of it. But Clary, I think I’d love you even if it were all different. I can't feel the way my heart beats for you and think it would be any different in any other life. I would have found you. I'll find you in any life.”

Clary's eyes fell to their hands where they touched on the table. Clary’s was so small, so pale, and Jace’s was large, strong and golden. It was so incredibly _them_ that it made Clary’s heart ache inexplicably. Her eyes trailed up Jace's body and, when their eyes met, Clary stifled the desire to pull him against her, to feel the warmth of him, the pulse of his blood, the strength with which he held her. “I love you so much, I don't think I’d survive any life without you. I mean it.”

“Are you ready to go home?” Jace asked as he reached up to run his hand through his hair. “You're too far away, this table is quite the nuisance.”

Clary nodded, finishing the last sip of wine in her glass. “I've never understood why you're supposed to sit across from people.”

“It's probably to keep the intimate groping to a minimum,” Jace said as he glanced around the room, catching the waiter’s eye. “I can't be expected to keep my hands to myself when my stunning wife has obviously requested my favorite Bach be played at my favorite restaurant for me.”

“You noticed,” Clary breathed as Jace turned back to her. 

“Of course I did. It couldn't have been a coincidence,” Jace mused. “You're just that good.”

*

The walk back to their apartment was a short one, merely a handful of blocks. Clary loved the chill of December, much to Jace’s chagrin, and she often insisted they walk despite the cold. The Institute was stationed between the restaurant and their brownstone, and as they neared it, Clary took Jace’s hand and ran past it, hoping nobody saw them pass. 

“I hardly think that's necessary,” Jace protested pointlessly. “It's not like anybody hangs out on the front steps.”

“No, but it's fun,” Clary said, letting Jace spin her around when the building was out of view. “It's like before, when we would sneak around the place. Thrilling and stuff, you know.”

Jace pressed Clary against a tree, laughing as he cornered her. Their fingers were tangled together as Jace brought his mouth to hers, teasing Clary as his lips just barely ghosted a kiss over hers. Clary whimpered, raising her mouth to meet his. When they met, hot and hard, Jace pushed Clary back against the tree, kissing her like it was the first time, like she was air as he was drowning. 

Clary dropped her hands from Jace’s and reached up to run her fingers through his golden hair, grabbing the back of his head to pull him harder onto her. Jace gripped the space around Clary’s ribs and slid his thumbs over her chest, making Clary break their kiss to gasp. 

“Home is so far,” she whined, feeling the tawny hair at the nape of Jace’s neck. 

“I've always heard trees were good places to fuck,” Jace said, his voice a ragged, low thing that burned the depths of Clary’s core. She felt it between her legs and she groaned, pressing her body closer to Jace’s. 

“Let's find out next time we are in Idris,” Clary suggested, pulling herself regretfully away from Jace. The chill of the night crept up her body and she immediately missed Jace’s warmth. “But for now, take me home?”

Jace grinned, bending to kiss the space beneath her ear. He thought of any passersby, how they might think they were only lovestruck young people; the truth made him grin. “Anything for you, Mrs. Herondale,” he growled, his voice against Clary’s neck sending shivers down her spine. 

Clary grabbed Jace’s arm as they stumbled along the sidewalk, affected by both the alcohol and the sideways kisses they stole, unable to stop. By the time they reached their building, Jace couldn't refrain from pressing Clary against the door, kissing her silly as she checked his pockets for keys. Her fingers grazed his hard length through his pocket and they groaned in unison, kissing with more fervor than before. 

“Either that's a really big key or-”

Clary didn't have a chance to finish her quip before Jace’s lips were on hers again, his hungry kisses almost bruising. “You have too many pockets,” she growled before abandoning her efforts and reaching into her own clutch to find her noisy key ring. 

Jace broke the kiss as Clary handed him her keys, and as he bent to locate the correct key and press it into the door, Clary’s lips found his neck, nipping and kissing at it greedily. 

“If you don't stop, I’ll never get this door open,” Jace growled, his free hand clutching at Clary’s waist hard enough to bruise her. Clary giggled and doubled her efforts, kissing her way to the front of his throat where her small fingers reached up to pop open the topmost button. She kissed down the column of his throat, finding the fabric of his undershirt and growled in frustration. “Too many clothes,” she said, her voice breathy with need. 

Suddenly, Jace turned the handle of the door and the pair nearly fell inside their apartment. Clary muttered _you're brilliant_ before she slammed the door shut and pushed Jace against it, unfinished with her assault against his body. Her fingers fumbled with another button before huffing in frustration, delegating the job to Jace as she shrugged out of her coat, throwing it carelessly to the floor. Her hands were then on his weapons belt, unbuckling it and dropping it somewhere near her jacket. Jace narrowed his eyes at Clary for a moment, silently chastising him for her carelessness with weapons. “Shut up,” Clary snapped, pushing Jace’s finally unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders. It stuck on his wrists and Clary growled about _too many buttons_ as she reached for the buckle of Jace’s pants. He must have handled the buttons at his cuffs, as suddenly both his shirt and undershirt were gone and Clary groaned at the hard expanse of chest before her. 

Clary dropped to her knees, eyeing Jace wickedly as she kissed her way down the trail of hair under his navel. Jace was so tall that it wasn't the most comfortable stretch, so she mumbled _shoes,_ and then Jace was kicking them off. It didn't make much of a difference but it helped. Clary’s hands were at the zipper to Jace’s pants and then she was pulling them down, her nails raking against his skin as he moaned and tangled his fingers in her hair. It was a dizzy second but then Jace was in Clary’s mouth as she sucked the length of him, groaning all the while. 

Jace’s head fell back against the door with an audible _thump_ as his hips pressed forward with need. Clary took the length of him in, gagging as his dick hit the back of her throat. Jace cursed, grabbing the door handle for purchase as Clary slowly, slowly let him fall from her mouth. 

Jace was going mad and as he looked down over her, he needed her desperately. “Clary,” he groaned, “come here.”

Clary obliged, straightening up to grin at her husband. Her smile was wiped away as his mouth crashed down on hers and then he was touching her and all composure left Clary. “Jace,” she gasped. “By the angel, I-”

She had no need to finish the thought because Jace had her by the hand, pulling her towards a more suitable surface. “Now you're wearing too many clothes,” he growled, plucking at Clary’s dress. “Off.”

Clary did as told and pulled the dress over her head. Jace sucked in a breath as his eyes gazed greedily over her: black bra, black thong, black heels. So much black that he wanted to forbid her from wearing any other color. Clary caught his expression and grinned, asking “what?” as demurely as she could muster. 

“You know what,” Jace said savagely as he kissed her hard, backing her towards their bedroom. 

“Maybe I want to hear you say it,” Clary teased, backing away from him laughing. 

“You are divine,” he said, turning her around so he could unclasp her bra. Clary shrugged it off her shoulders as Jace stepped flush behind her, brushing her hair over her shoulder to kiss the space beneath. “Raziel, Clary,” he gasped, biting the muscle at the ridge of her shoulder. 

Pain burned into pleasure as Clary moaned headily, pressing her ass against Jace as his fingers reached around her to pinch her nipples, pebbling them between his fingers as Clary gasped. Jace’s hands were then at her hips, prying the black lace from her like it had offended him. Clary lost her balance and fell forwards onto the bed, her hands catching her fall. 

Jace groaned as he pressed her forward even more; Clary’s back arched when Jace ran a finger down her spine, down, down until he found her slick folds. “You are so wet,” Jace groaned and Clary pressed backwards, needing to feel his fingers inside of her. Instead, she felt the tip of his dick sliding over her folds and Clary crooned, arching her back even further to accommodate him. 

And then he was inside of her: inside and outside and all around her, consuming every corner of her body and soul. A loud moan ripped through the quiet of the room as Jace bottomed out within her. He pressed her forward so that she had to climb onto the bed; her knees at the very edge. Then Jace’s hands were on Clary’s hips, guiding himself fully in and out of her as Clary lost herself the way she only could when Jace was so deep in her soul. 

Clary opened her mouth to speak but the sound was lost on her lips as Jace pushed on her lower back, forcing her upper body onto the bed. Clary’s cheek fell against the white duvet as her hands gripped madly at the cotton, her eyes rolling back in her head. 

Jace laughed, a low sound somewhere between amusement and satisfaction. He slowed nearly to a stop and Clary groaned, opening her eyes to glare backwards at her husband. “So mean,” she mumbled, trying to press her hips against his. “No games, Jace, please.”

“Turn around,” Jace demanded and Clary obliged, falling onto her back and reaching out for him to follow.   
Clary all but shrieked as Jace slammed into her again, her shoulders pulled forward by some invisible force. She propped herself on her elbows, whimpering as she watched Jace’s dick disappear and reappear inside of her. She thought her chest might cave in as her breath was ripped from her lungs, her chest heaving wildly. Just when Clary started to groan at the sheer immensity of it, Jace pulled out entirely. 

“I swear to Raziel, if you don't fuck me thoroughly, I _will_ kill you,” Clary hissed through gritted teeth. 

Jace laughed again, climbing on top of her, nudging her to scoot further up the bed as he did. Then his lips were on Clary’s, consuming her like she might vanish. When Clary broke the kiss to gasp, Jace pushed her jaw to the side so he could nip at the flesh of her throat, growling into her as he did. “You already did, remember?”

Clary couldn't think through the fire in her nerves and she certainly couldn't remember what he was talking about. “What?” she asked in a daze, arching against Jace as his teeth sunk into her neck, pulling the skin away from her body before it slipped through his teeth. She would be bruised and she couldn't care less. 

Jace pulled back, grinning down at Clary venomously. “You killed me,” he said, and he looked dangerous, too sexy to possibly be real. “You really shouldn't make threats you could perfectly well carry out,” Jace said, moving his hips so his dick slid against her slick folds. “You could scare a man off.” 

“Shut up,” Clary groaned half heartedly, arching into Jace. “It's our anniversary, you could at least get me off before goading me.” 

Jace smiled around his bit lip and reached out to run his fingers down her neck, his thumb tracing the red bites he'd just inflicted. “I thought you married me for my wit?” he said, cocking his head. His hands drifted over Clary’s sides, making her squirm. 

“Right now, I’m mostly thinking I married you so I could tell you to shut up and fuck me,” Clary said grumpily, the whine in her voice apparent. 

“So feisty. Must be the hair,” Jace said, twining a red curl around his finger. 

“Jace,” Clary groaned, pulling his forehead to hers. “Why must you always do this? Can't we just have sex like normal people? Just once?”

“If I remember correctly,” Jace said, his voice taunting, “you have little experience with how anyone but me has sex.” To keep her on her toes, Jace let just the tip of his dick slide into her as he held her hips in place, his thumb brushing down to sweep over her clit. 

Clary moaned at the contact, her eyes begging him to give a little. “Babe-”

“I have something for you,” Jace said, cutting her off, and then his body was gone from hers and she whimpered.

“Can't it wait?” 

Jace opened his bedstand and then fell back against the pillows with a box in his hand. Clary took the opportunity to climb onto him, pressing their bodies together. She reached for Jace’s cock, rising off of him enough to position him beneath her, and slid onto him before he could protest. Clary was surprised by the sound that Jace made; the extent of his games always had Clary half convinced it was a lack of pleasure that drove him to tease her but his hand in her hair, pulling her down to him said otherwise. 

Jace kissed Clary hungrily as he groaned her name onto her lips, causing her rhythm to falter as a chill wound its way down her spine. “I love you,” Jace said, cupping her face in his hands like she was some treasured, magnificent artifact. Clary nodded furiously, soft sounds falling from her lips as she fell onto him again and again, her hips rocking like it was the only thing they knew how to do. 

Clary straightened up, letting her head fall back as she rode her husband, feeling the way he filled her thoroughly. She was only vaguely aware of him moving her hand, doing something to it, though she didn't really process it until he spoke. 

“Clary,” Jace said, grabbing at her hips to hold her still against him. The depth did more to distract Clary than anything and a shared moan fell from their lips. Jace’s voice was ragged when he told Clary to open her eyes; she swallowed, whimpering at the feel of her clit flush against him. Still, she opened her eyes, though they were heavily lidded. 

“What?” Clary said, still absolutely lost. Then she felt it, unfamiliar and cold. She looked down at her hand and gasped. 

“You got me a ring?” she whispered breathily, her voice hardly audible. She stared at her hand as tears welled up and when she looked back at Jace, they spilled over her flushed checks. “You got a ring,” she said again, her voice more substantial now. 

“I only just recently realized you wanted one. I saw you glance at a jeweler once and then I started noticing it more. You could have told me, Clary.”

“We’re shadowhunters,” she said by means of explanation. “Runes-”

“You're a mundane,” Jace said, pulling Clary down to him. “At heart, at least. Clary, I wish you had told me. I wish I knew. I _should_ have known. I should have given you one at our wedding. I’m sorry it didn't occur to me,” he said with more honestly than she'd heard from him in so long. He sound wrecked. 

“You got me a _ring_.”

“Is that all you can say?” Jace asked, smiling up at her with love in his eyes. 

“No,” Clary said, shaking her head. “I love you. By the Angel, Jace. Thank you. I'm such a bitch. I've been telling you I'm going to kill you and you got me a _ring_.” 

“It's hot when you threaten me,” Jace admitted with a shrug. “And it's hot as fuck when you take control like that.” 

Clary crumpled against Jace’s chest, laughing. She ground her hips over Jace’s, then rose off of him slowly before falling back onto him with a groan. When she sat up again, it was with a quirk of her brow and she was fucking him again, her mouth falling open, pleading with Jace to touch her. 

Instead, Jace rolled Clary over and lifted her leg over his shoulder, plunging into her hard enough to warrant a scream. Before he could use his own, Clary’s hand was rubbing furiously at her clit, her voice failing her as she gaped quietly, her heavy breathing the only sound she made. Jace loved her like this, completely out of control, a victim of the sensations coursing through her body. With a shift of his hips, Jace was fucking Clary at just the right angle and she was gone, her body trembling as the breath in her lungs appeared to freeze, the quiver in her jaw leaving Jace gasping. 

Jace didn't last much longer and let Clary’s leg fall back down as he collapsed all around her, his hips pumping into her with abandon as he rode out his orgasm. It was like _this_ was what made the earth spin, the power around which all things existed. They shook together as Jace kissed around Clary’s face, so gently that it hurt Clary’s soul. Then she was laughing against his lips, pulling his body flush against hers. 

*  
“This is one of those moments I wish I could freeze forever, you know?” Clary asked, her head covering the golden expanse of Jace’s chest. As she listened to the steady, solid beat of his heart, their fingertips pressed together and Clary smiled. It was a smile of contentedness and comfort and a nearly uncomfortable amount of love for the man wrapped around her. 

“I’d keep it in a little jar to take out on occasion,” Jace mused amorously, kissing the top of Clary’s head fiercely. His hand slipped between her fingers and Clary jumped slightly in surprise before tipping her chin up to grin at Jace. He kissed her nose and pulled away, stopping to brush a curl behind her ear. Clary turned and curled into Jace further, tucking her head against his neck, breathing him in. He smelled like pepper and soap and a hint of sweat, unbelievably _him_. 

Clary shivered at the December chill creeping in through the cracked window, causing Jace to sit up enough to grab the duvet, pulling it up to her neck. Clary let out a small, comforted moan as she sunk into her husband, letting the world fall away until it was only the two of them. When sleep found them, there was only stillness, the perfect silence of dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! I'm sure I will be writing about these two again sooner or later, though I have Jules/Emma on my mind currently... swoon.


End file.
